Again in 1452 Pope Nicholas V., on appeal by Jeanne’s mother, Isabel d’Arc, ordered inquiry, which duly took place, but without formal issue. It is fortunate for truth and human interest that these inquiries were abortive. Had they on general grounds annulled the proceedings under Cauchon, how much would have been lost to us! We should never have had that delightful picture of Domremy given by the simple people of the place. Nor should we have, as we have now, a sworn narrative of Jeanne’s private and public life laying bare her very soul. When Pope Calixtus ordered a full inquiry, he seemed to think, as Newman thought when writing the “Apologia,” that the less argument and the more narrative and evidence that could be given the better; and so, instead of discussing the nature of angels, the limits of Catholic obedience, the Great Schism,[4] and the assurances of salvation of the just, he and his deputies put aside such questions with patient contempt until they first made sure of the human side of the story. How Jeanne impressed her neighbours, her priest, and her kin; what kind of girl she was; what were her employments; was she restive and ambitious or quiet and satisfied; was her life pure; was she given to foolish imaginings, or was she a sane, modest, unpretending country maiden? Into all these things Cauchon had made inquiries, but as the answers were all favourable to the accused he suppressed the evidence. The decree of Pope Calixtus has added a true romance to human story. In all that we know of the world’s great ones we can find no parallel for the Maid of Domremy. Perhaps only in Catholic France was such a heroine possible. Certainly Teutonic Protestantism has as yet given to the world none of the exalted types of radiant and holy women such as those that illuminate Latin Christianity. Whether as a saint or a nation-maker, Jeanne’s place in world-history is assured. ----- Footnote 1: Had there been any desire on the part of the French King to rescue Jeanne from captivity, a ‘King’s ransom,’ which was later paid for her by Cauchon, could scarcely have been refused in those days for a prisoner of war, however renowned. Unhappily for the memory of Charles, she was left to the tender mercies of the English without any offer being made for her release, or any attempt at rescue. There existed a bitter feeling of jealousy towards Jeanne in consequence of her great successes in the field. This was notably shown during her attack upon Paris, where she was thwarted in every direction, and all possibility of victory was taken from her by the conduct of the King. Whether or not Flavy, the Governor of Compiègne, who was completely under the control of the King, betrayed Jeanne at Compiègne, by shutting the gates and closing the drawbridge at her approach, will never be known, but suspicion has always pointed to his betrayal of the Maid.